No Money, More Problems

The little bastard sees me seeing it. The moment our eyes meet—mine full of confusion, its full of "oh shit"—it twitches its delicate wings and takes off like a bottle rocket of glitter. The air sparkles faintly behind it before the shimmering particles evaporate into nothingness.

"Oh no you don't!" I growl. I lean forward, exploding forward into a mad pursuit.

It zips through the air with erratic speed, bouncing between light poles and diving over traffic like a drunken hummingbird. I'm trailing behind it by about five hundred feet. It's difficult to keep track of and not just because of its speed. It's as though my mind is unable to focus on it. I flare [Aura Sense] and the Skill brings the creature's shimmering trail into sharper focus. As I force my eyes and mind to remain focused on the creature, my body moves on instinct.

Right into traffic.

"Shit, shit, shit—!"

Screeeech!... CRASH!

I bounce off the hood of a teal BMW.

"Oomph!..." I roll—landing on my feet—and keep sprinting.

"Sorry!" I shout over my shoulder. The driver's laying on their horn, leaning halfway out the window. "My bad! Great car! Love the color, man!"

No time to stop and apologize further, or take responsibility for the Muscle Mage sized dent in the guy's hood. I've got a glittery stalker on the move.

The creature flits up over a line of parked cars just outside the convention center, wings shimmering in the sun with a strange crystalline glare. It weaves through street signs, takes a sudden and hard left turn, and almost loses me.

Almost. But not quite.

I activate [Speed Boost].

Time bends around me. My legs ignite as my body propels itself through the distance between me and the creature. Air slaps my cheeks and the world around me blurs into streaks of color and sound.

The creature weaves, dipping away from the sidewalk and into the street. I bank with it as soon as my [Speed Boost] ends. My heart pounds like war drums in my ears, but I'm closing in on it.

Closer… Closer… Now!

I lunge—hand out—and snatch the creature. I stumble across the street, almost tripping over the curb as my momentum carries me onto the opposite sidewalk. Something small, wiry, and violently squirming is trapped in my fist.

Its wings beat against my wrist. They're practically translucent, the bright orange looking like stained glass, accented by royal purple. Tiny hands punch at my thumb with the strength of a particularly angry hamster. The creature is definitely a humanoid. A tiny, pink-skinned woman-like creature with purple hair matching its wings.

"Hah!" I wheeze, winded and half-laughing. "You thought you were slick! But I got ya!"

"Hey!... Please, don't hurt me!" it squeaks.

I examine the creature more closely, feeling a familiar tug behind my eyes as the System text box is triggered. The transparent, floating box of text appears over the creature's head, accompanied by a subtle pulsing sensation in my mind.

Creature Identified: Summoned Sugar Fairy, Level 10

Classification: Summoned Sucrose

That's… strange, I can't help but think when I see the creature's information.

I squint at it. "Why were you watching me?" I tighten my grip, only slightly. Just enough to let it know I'm serious.

The fairy stops flailing and blinks up at me like a child caught mid-cookie theft. I swear its eyes grow larger, almost cartoonish as they well with tears. "I didn't mean you any harm, sir! Or offense!... Sir! I was just following orders!"

"Whose orders?" I growl, trying not to get distracted by the fact that this thing smells sickeningly sweet, like vanilla extract.

A tiny hand pokes out of my grip and—pop!—suddenly there;s a business card in my face. A small, cream-colored rectangle of classy cardstock.

I snatch it with my free hand.

The script is immaculate: black ink, hand-lettered. Fancy stuff. It reads:

AMOS LABONTE, Entrepreneur

Founder, Harvest Guild

I blink. "A Guild?... This guy's your boss?"

The fairy nods with such enthusiasm that its entire body buzzes in my grip.

"Yup yup yup! He's the boss, sir! Real nice!" It flashes me a wide smile, but it's eyes are still wild with terror and desperation. "We were tasked with finding humans who were using Gates, and to watch the particularly sparkly ones…!"

I raise an eyebrow. "Sparkly ones?"

It nods again, so vigorously I'm afraid it might pop off of its tiny shoulders. "Mmmhmm! You're very sparkly! In a dangerous way, I mean!"

I stare at the card.

Then back at the fairy.

Then back at the card.

"Sparkly," I say again.

"Extremely," the fairy confirms, as if this were a perfectly acceptable metric of power.

I flip over the business card and on the back are two neat lines of script: an address and a phone number.

The Sugar Fairy beams up at me. It's got one dimple and brilliant white teeth that look like two rows of miniature marshmallows. Despite the wide smile, its eyes still scream 'Please don't kill me.'

"I wasn't tasked with giving you an invitation," it says. "Yet. That is… Sir."

"Uh huh."

"But you're definitely sparkly enough." It nods, as if this is a serious declaration.

I just stare.

"You can keep the card!" it chirps. "If you're interested, just reach out to Mister Labonte. He's very friendly! And he loves potential. He's always saying so!" The fairy leans in conspiratorially, cupping its free hand over its mouth and whispering, "Also pastries."

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"That's great," I mutter. I don't know what to make of this whole situation.

"Now," it says, wiggling in my grip, "would you mind letting me go? It's hard to breathe, sir..."

I sigh, long and loud. Then slowly open my hand.

The fairy twirls once in the air like a ballerina doing a pirouette. Its peach-colored tunic flutters as it straightens the fabric primly, smoothing out any potential wrinkles. Then it gives a bow and flashes me a toothy smile.

"Thank you!" it chirps, and then its gone, zipping down the street, a sparkling trail behind it. I catch the faint smell of spun sugar.

I stand there. Alone. Still holding the business card in my one hand.

I look down at the card again.

Was this how Guilds recruited nowadays?

The whole situation seemed really strange.

And how long had this Sugar Fairy been spying on me. I still couldn't shake the feeling that I had been watched the couple of times I illicitly used Gate Tickets. Had my [Perception] just been too weak to ever notice the fairies keeping tabs on me? Had it been the fairies of this Labonte fella the entire time?

I don't know. And that's what bothers me more than anything.

"I wonder what Veronica will make of this situation?" I mutter to myself, before pocketing the business card and jogging away.

The Bokarala Bar sits like a stubborn scab on the west side of Cleveland, nestled between a boarded-up building that once served as an upscale cocktail lounge and a bodega-styled convenience store. Above the door, is vintage-looking sign installed directly into the brick face of the building. It depicts a winged monkey with a beer belly, shades of faded reds, blues and yellows throughout. The wings on the monkey—the yellowish off-white shade of cigarette and coffee stains—are chipped. The monkey's mouth is frozen in this little "I'm about to do something legally questionable" grin.

I stare up at the sign.

"Huh," I mutter. "What a weird little dude…"

"I actually like it," says a voice behind me.

I turn—and there's Veronica.

She's wearing ripped jeans, a cropped red jacket, and a confident smirk. Her dark hair is tied up into a lazy bun. Despite the fact that she's more than a whole head shorter than me, she's strolling down the sidewalk like she owns the whole damned block.

I shrink back. "Er… Yeah?"

"I was always a fan of The Wizard of Oz," she adds, stepping up beside me and eyeing the sign. "Flying monkeys, wicked witches, talking scarecrows. One of the first movies I vividly remember watching, too!"

"Sure," I say, still staring at the monkey. "But what does it have to do with the name Bokarala?"

She shrugs. "No idea."

I shrug too. "Whatever."

"We going in or just going to stand here and admire the mural like it's a Diego Rivera piece?"

"Diego, who now?"

She sighs. "You thirsty or what, man?"

That's enough for me.

We push through the door and into the bar proper.

The interior is peak dive: dark absent the flickering neon beer signs. Duct tape on the booths and padded stools. A suspiciously sticky floor. A few patrons are scattered throughout, but the place is pretty empty. It's still early, after all.

We grab drinks at the bar. Veronica gets a negroni. I go with whatever light pilsner is on tap. Drinks in hand, Veronica heads towards the back of the bar, where the room narrows before ending in a creaky screen door. She opens the door, stepping outside and onto a small, square patio. The patio is all uneven brick, and is boxed in by cracked stone planters and an aging wooden fence. Tree branches hang overhead from the other side of the fence, and several wrought-iron tables and chairs are scattered throughout as though discarded there by some unknown force. A string of dim, dusty lights flickers overhead like drunk fireflies. We have the whole patio to ourselves.

Veronica stabs her chin at one of the tables. "There OK?"

I nod. "Yup."

We each pull up a chair and settle into our drinks. The first sip of my beer is crisp and absolutely refreshing.

"So… what's new with you?" I ask. Other than a few text message exchanges, I haven't spoken to either Veronica or Clyde since he returned from the Bronze Gate.

"Trying to decide whether I pick back up with law school in the Fall," she says.

"Oh?... Really?"

"Yeah. I think I'd be OK."

"So, are you just giving up on Gates and using the System?"

Veronica chuckles. "You know there are more careers for System-enhanced people than just Gate-diving and adventuring, right?"

I feel my cheeks warm with embarrassment and I take a sip of my beer. "Um, actually… No, I didn't."

"There are a lot of legal careers that are specifically for System-enhanced people," she says. Her lips dip into a frown. "But my Class doesn't really fit any of those, which is what's making the decision on law school so tough."

"What do you mean?"

"A lot of those coveted legal jobs opening up because of the System are being taken by System-enhanced lawyers with Classes that involve magical binding and stuff. It's how all Guild contracts are being prepared and executed nowadays. It's very interesting! If I go back to school, I may write my Note on it."

I place my beer down. My head is spinning. Had the economy really shifted that much since the System's arrival? Other industries were being affected by the existence of the System? Did I really have my head in that much of a hole since then that I just missed all this? I can't help but feel like a complete idiot.

"I really need to read up," I say, shaking my head. "I had no idea. I wonder what other job opportunities may be out there."

"Plenty," she says after taking a sip of her negroni. "There are a lot of positions for people with Skills that enhance analytics. Clyde would be perfect for one of those, but he's got his heart set on being a Gate-diver for a Guild."

Clyde had been ghosting them lately, though he had warned them that it might be the case. The last text they received from him was a few days ago, saying he was going to be training ahead of a few upcoming Guild assessments. Despite what was occurring throughout the economy, private Guilds still paid the most handsomely and those who were the ones clearing the dungeons within and slaying monsters? They were becoming the new era's celebrities.

"Any jobs tailored to a meat-headed mage?" I sheepishly ask, scratching the side of my cheek.

Veronica pauses to actually consider the question. "With those magical hands you can summon?... Construction?"

I practically spit out my beer. "Wow! Thanks a lot!"

She laughs. "Did you want a serious answer or what?"

"Even if my Spell could be useful there, I'd happily take good, consistent Construction work right now…"

"What do you mean?"

"Huh?... Oh, my Wizard's Hands aren't really good at interacting with objects. They're just good at punching stuff and being assholes."

"No—Oh, really/—Wait, I meant, 'what do you mean' about the needing work, stuff? Still trying to figure things out, huh?"

"Yeah, and I'm just about out of cash… And I'm still in my parent's basement…"

Veronica gives me a concerned look.

"Look it's a lot longer than I originally planned. And I actually was in a good spot financially, but dropping $30k on an engagement ring and breaking a dang expensive Manhattan lease will do some damage!"

Veronica's eyebrows furrow and she just looks more concerned. "I'm really sorry, Joe."

A messy tangle of emotions rip through my chest and choke my throat. I awkwardly clear my throat and take another sip of my beer. "Anyway… I'm probably going to be looking to take on a few more muni extraction jobs or other freelance work until I pin down exactly what I want to do." I sigh, throwing my head back and staring up at the tree branches overhead. "Especially because now I know there's a bunch of shit I haven't even considered."

"You could just try one of the private Guild assessments coming up?"

That reminds me of something. "Oh, right. Wait 'til I tell you about my day!"

I recount the story of Yomhalde and the Sugar Fairy.

"Wait, what did you say the name on the card was?" Veronica asks.

I take the card out of my pocket and hand it to her. "Amos Labonte."

She takes the card from me and immediately has her phone out. A few moments later, she looks up from her screen. "This guy's a serial entrepreneur, originally from Cleveland. Founded the Lake Erie Baking Company forever ago before selling it, and since then has been an angel investor. He apparently had enough money to land one of the private Guild licenses for the State of Ohio. Not much online about Harvest Guild, though that's the case for a lot of Guilds that only recently obtained their licenses."

"Well, whoever the hell he is, his Sugar Fairy stalker tactic gives me the creeps," I say. "Why wouldn't he just hold an assessment like everyone else?"

Veronica hands the business card back to me. "Don't know."

I think of something else. "Oh, and that reminds me. How are people applying for these jobs, or showing up to the Guild assessments if they're expected to have a Class but using Gates without authorization is illegal?... You're a kind-of-lawyer, right? What's the deal with that?"

"A semester and some change does not a lawyer make," she says, before finishing the last of her glass. "But, to answer your question. Guilds are also able to host Class Trials outside their assessments, which itself is highly regulated. Many companies and employers have contractual relationships with Guilds. And given the reality that enforcement of the restrictions on individual Gate Ticket usage is still inconsistent and being sorted out, most employers—Guild or otherwise—are able to get away with a 'wink, wink, nudge, nudge' arrangement and handle the Class Trial paperwork after the fact."

"Contractual relationship with Guilds?"

"Yup, for handling the processing for the Class Trial paperwork and records filings. Some guy shows up with a Class already, applies for the job. The Guild enters the paperwork and saves the costs of actually hosting and overseeing a Bronze Gate. They take their fee from either the individual or the company actually doing the hiring."

"Er… I've gotta admit. You completely lost me."

She sighs. "The important thing is. You already have your Class. So, don't worry about it."

After a little more idle banter over a second round, we close out our tabs, say our goodbyes, promise to hang out again soon, and head our separate ways. I walk around the block to where I parked my car only to find my driver's side window smashed out, glass covering the curb and sidewalk.

I groan, thinking about how many rotisserie chickens it would cost to fix my window.

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